Breaker (Unmasked #3)

43. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Breaker

T he school ironed out any unease normal men have when they are under stress. We were trained brutally in a harsh environment, the constant threat of Fallon’s punishments looming over us. Living under constant strain and the threat of Fallon’s wrath became our normal. We lived and breathed; we grew and slept; we ate and fought in a place that wanted to hurt us.

We became immune to the violence and the nagging fear. Although sometimes it would creep in late at night, and sleep was impossible. There’d be times I was so overcome with fear I’d leave my room and slip into Viper’s. He’d let me take the top bunk, and I’d finally be able to fall asleep. The few nights I found his room empty, I’d try to sleep on his top bunk, alone in his room, but the fear lingered. When I couldn’t shake the nagging panic building within me, I’d find myself knocking at Striker’s door, seeking any form of comfort I could find. He’d give me an exasperated sigh, but point to the top bunk, and fall back into bed and be asleep within minutes.

Sometimes the fear and anxiety would appear in odd ways. Like a jittery, itchy feeling in my hands or legs and I’d have to tap things to get rid of it. Sometimes even the tapping didn’t work, so I’d try to say the Lord’s prayer that had been drilled into our heads, muscle memory kicking in as I did the sign of the cross as if to ward off those bad feelings.

Or maybe trap that monstrous fear inside my chest with all the other bad things I’d done.

But over the years, I noticed all that darkness and fear warped. I wasn’t as nervous as I was before. Instead, any tension I felt turned inky and thick inside me. Like the unease I felt twisted around my lungs, and the only way I could rid myself of that slick unease was to pour that uncomfortable feeling into something else.

Break it free of me by cracking something else open and placing it there.

Just like when I was a boy, and I knew I needed to break things to make that feeling go away.

Like right now.

Right now, I wish I could trap, burn, fucking rid myself of this coiling feeling snaking through my gut that’s threatening to destroy four years of work, because I’m about to smash this asshole’s face into his skull.

It would help. Punching him over and over until I heard something break. Cracking his face open would ease this agonizing tightness in my chest.

“I fucking love this thing,” Zane says, but I’m barely paying attention. All I can see is Cora sobbing in Harlow’s arms as they waited for me in the parking lot.

This mother-fucker touched our girl. Hurt her in some way that Clyde had to intervene.

This ugly asshole plans to fuck her.

Tap, tap, tap.

The ring on my pinky clicks against my glass. I only wear the ring with the lion’s head when I’m Ben, never Breaker. The irony doesn’t escape me. But I would never dress like this. White linen button-down shirt, slightly open at the collar, revealing a few of my tattoos and the thin gold chain at my neck. Khaki pants and leather shoes. And Ben’s classic aviators. I look like an asshole, as big of one as Zane, and I’m having to act like one too because that’s what we had to do in order to make our plan work.

Viper says I don’t have to act the part, just be myself. He thinks he’s funny. I wish he was here. He’s so much better at this than I am.

”—Probably because of the clientele.“ Zane winks. I debate taking the martini glass in his hand, breaking it on his face, and stabbing it into his throat so I can watch him bleed out. What kind of asshole drinks apple martinis? Another smirk and he raises his glass. “Some of them don’t even look legal when they board.”

I silently say the Lord’s prayer.

Zane waves to the stewardess, and circles his finger in the air, indicating he wants another round. I glance down at the drink I’ve not touched in my hands. I’m drinking a vodka rocks because I’m not a douchebag. Or rather I’m pretending to drink it.

I need to keep my wits about me. Zane Devin is testing my every nerve and my ability to hold my composure. If I slip even the slightest from my role as Ben, I risk not just my life, but Harlow’s and Cora’s.

After a minute, the stewardess brings us more drinks and that need to break something returns as he winks at her like the jerk he is.

She grimaces and backs away. I watch her retreat, wishing I could just kill Zane right now. I’d be doing the world a favor.

”—Can you believe that?“ Zane asks. A light breeze carries his sharp cologne—musky and sour—my way, making me shift my focus back to him. He takes a long pull of his fresh martini. The man’s going to end up drunk before we can even go over the contract.

“Impressive,” I say, even though I have no idea what he just said. I lean slightly into Ben’s ambiguous accent. Could have a slight French touch, could be American. I could be from anywhere in the world helping lend to the idea that Ben is from everywhere and is everyone’s friend.

I’m a fucking nice guy. Everyone likes me.

“She’s a Codecasa. She’s named Fair Play ,“ he says. “Forty-five meters long, this girl can go up to thirty-two knots.” He looks around with a lopsided smile. We’re sitting on the mid deck, the sun setting behind the city, washing everything it touches in gold.

If I wasn’t with this asshole, I’d be enjoying myself. It’s not just Ben who loves boats, and speed, and beautiful things.

“It’s a shame,” Zane says. I shift in my seat to look at him. This fucking demon wearing a man’s skin. A chill runs up my back, memories trying to take over, but I push the horrific images away. “I was going to buy my ex-fiancé a yacht of her own as a wedding gift.”

Ex-fiancé? Now he has my full attention.

“Ex?” I ask, doing my best to keep my facial expression even. “I wasn’t aware you were engaged.”

He waves his glass, like he’s swiping the words from the air. “It was short-lived. Fucking bitch.” His brows knit like he’s had a sudden thought, and I wonder how long it would take for him to bleed out after I stabbed him in the balls. Minutes, maybe even a handful of seconds, if I cut deep enough. “I think you probably met with her. Cora Julian. She’s Rune’s accountant. Or one of them, anyway.”

With my head cocked to the side, I stare off like I’m trying to place the name. Meanwhile, I’m thinking about how Harlow will not enjoy our chat later. How he failed to tell me this important detail, one I needed to know, makes my already throbbing headache grow. Because my girl not having to marry this sack of shit is definitely something I needed to know.

Unless he doesn’t even know yet.

“Can’t place her,” I say, removing my aviators and tucking them into the pocket of my shirt. “Should I be congratulating you on your freedom or expressing my condolences for your breakup?”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “Definitely a congrats is in order. The girl was a complete whore. And the worst part, she can’t give head to save her life.”

Tap, tap, tap.

I want to tell him I know firsthand my woman sucks dick like she’s trying to take my soul into her body. Thank fuck Viper’s not here. Zane’s face would be ground into this glossy white table by now.

“Nice ass though,” he continues, oblivious to the ways I’m imagining breaking his hands. “That pussy though.” He grimaces. “Honestly, I was scared to go bare with her. She’s spread her legs so wide for anyone to sink in that she’s got a goddamned cavernous gaping hole between her legs.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“Why did you propose?” I ask. “That pussy must have been good at some point.”

The urge to wash my mouth out, to rid myself of those foul words, makes me slam my drink back. Then the other. The vodka burns my tongue, sears my throat, and I relish the feeling. It’s better than tasting the acidic flavor those belittling words left behind.

“Rune,” Zane says, raising a hand to the stewardess and motioning to me. “He wanted me to marry the girl. She’s fucking loaded, but she’s not worth it. Every time I sank into her, I was risking my life. I had her tested, but shit, she was like fucking a bag of marshmallows.”

He had her tested. This fucking rabid killer had my girl tested .

Tap, tap, tap.

I imagine smashing my glass into his mouth until his teeth knock down his throat. He’s not once touched our Little Red and the fact he’s lying and insulting her all in the same breath sends electric fury through my veins. It sends noise, roaring in my ears. My insides coil up, my chest drawing together tighter and tighter until it feels like I need to dig my nails into my skin and pull myself a part. Pull him apart.

“I understand,” I say, eyeing the stewardess as she sets my fresh drink down. I let my fingers trail over her hand, like Ben would, giving her a flirty wink. My hand stings, and I wrap it around the glass, hoping to dull the feeling of another woman. Worse, the sticky sensation of touching someone without their permission. “Making connections in this business is important.” I flash Zane what Viper calls my panty-melting smile, and it feels like my fucking soul is shriveling up. How I’m going to pull this off, I have no clue. “But not at the risk of your dick falling off.”

Zane barks out an annoying laugh. So fucking funny . He won’t think it’s funny as I’m plucking his fingernails out one by one.

“You can take her downstairs,” Zane says, lifting his chin to the stewardess I just felt up. “Let off a little steam before heading out.”

I need to let off steam, but not that way. Only violence will ebb this tangled up darkness in my chest.

“Besides, she knows she’ll get a bonus if she doesn’t put up much of a fight.”

Tap, tap, tap.

I wink, my stomach roiling. “We love a little fight, don’t we?”

Tap. Tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

“But I need to head out soon.”

“Ah, yes,” Zane says, gesturing to the steward standing behind the long bar. “We need to go over the contract before I have my office forward it to your associates.”

The contract. Finally . The entire reason I’m here.

As the steward retrieves a thick envelope from the cabin, I take note that Rune and Zane haven’t replaced their security staff, which I find concerning. Makes me wonder if he’s that paranoid, which could be even more dangerous for us, or if he’s waiting, thinking we’ll make a move on him. Neither scenario is ideal, because if he’s waiting for us to make a move, leaving himself exposed, he could have a plan up his sleeve. But Clyde’s heard nothing.

It’s possible the lack of security could be Rune’s way of showing Fallon he’s open for discussion. Leaving himself vulnerable to an attack could be a message to Father that he’ll do anything to get Delilah back.

The steward brings a large, thick envelope, and hands it to Zane. Zane removes the contract, setting it before me. I lift the first page, acting like I’m reading it. No need. I already know what it says. Clyde gave us a copy to study years ago.

I lift a brow when I come across the initiation portion of the contract. “Initiation?” I ask. “Is our business not enough?”

“It’s just a protocol Rune put in place.” Zane sips his drink, then sets it down, leaning back in his seat, elbows out, fingers laced behind his head. That friendly, loose demeanor vanishes and Zane is here. Present. The man who not only works for, but with Rune, to maintain control over his business, and those around him.

The man who’s capable of atrocities I’ll never rid from my mind.

Because they’re the same things I’m capable of. Capable being the key difference between us and Zane. Between myself and the man before me. I may be capable of doing horrendous things, but I draw a line. Zane leaps over every moral and ethical line drawn in this business.

He thrives on evil.

“It’s just a little test, nothing real challenging,” Zane says. “When Don joined, he and his wife had to go into a shark cage to prove they had the balls to take part in the Wilderness Experience.”

“As long as he doesn’t throw me in a pit of snakes, I’ll be fine,” I say with a grin. “Just send the contract to my office and I’ll have my associates go over it as well.”

He leans forward and gives me a slick smile that makes my stomach churn. “I’d be careful what you reveal around Rune,” he says. “That snake tidbit may give him some ideas.”

Rune and his ideas. I know all about those.

“What did you have to do for the initiation?” I ask, though I have a feeling I know.

That smile turns dark, lips lifting at the corners into a vile grin. “Let’s just say I proved my loyalty to Rune a long time ago.”